


when i fell

by moonji



Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Description Heavy, Fate, Grief/Mourning, Insecurities, Love Confessions, M/M, Sadness, Second Chances, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-01-26 19:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21379069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonji/pseuds/moonji
Summary: "But still, I wanted you to know."
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 24
Kudos: 134





	when i fell

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've done some digging on my ancient computer, and turns out I have some MarkHyuck fanfic sitting there and all rusting. This is probably the only one on there as I don't see anything else. But, whatever, right?
> 
> Anyway, I guess I finished it today(?) without re-reading -- I know, horrible. But I still had a decent grasp with the plot I went for. So, here it is! The finished work!
> 
> I'm pretty sure there are mistakes that I've made, so it'll be really great of you to point them out in the comment section so I could come and correct them. :)
> 
> AND! Make sure to comment what you think of it. Was it any good? Or nah?
> 
> I've kind of wanted to create something like this then, but it was complex I ended abandoning it for some time. (Probably why I didn't bring it over to my phone.)
> 
> Anyway, really, end of transmission! Enjoy! Get your tea and popcorn!

"I love you." He stares ahead, his eyes trained to nothing in particular, darting about against the blinding light of the setting sun. A smile ghosts on his lips, the corners tugging weakly at the sides to a display of enervation as he tucks his puffed up auburn hair behind his ear. "That was all I wanted to say." Donghyuck sighs, eyes fluttering to a soft closing, the sound vibrations rippling through the air like the delicate flow of water, and we stand there, silence permeating the air like a deafening blow.

Slowly, he angles his head to face me, and my stomach drops at the sight of his face illuminated by the vibrant shade of orange the sun had cast upon us. He seems to shine, ever-so-gently sparkling as if a celestial entity gracing the Earth with it's presence. "I know you don't feel the same," he borderline whispers, his eyes downturned accompanied by slanted brows, the expression sad and pained. "But still, I wanted you to know."

-

But still, I wanted you to know.

The words keep ringing in my ear like a broken record: scratchy -- repeated endlessly. And I draw the sunflower I carried in my hand a little closer to my chest, observing how the light shines on the thin bright-yellow petals it sported, a light sheen emanating to form an ethereal frame on its entirety. It's beautiful, a pleasant sight for the eyes to see; however it only proves to be dull and lifeless -- the brightness of such flower quite a contrast to the solemn and somber event it's integrated on.

I'm sorry.

My vision shifts -- searching, flitting, darting around my surroundings, and I breathe deeply, carrying my weight one foot to another with every step I took. My insides churn uncomfortably, the distinct dropping of my stomach providing for a more ominous feeling added to the slight shaking of my entire body from the feeling of dread dwelling in the pit of my stomach. My focus lands on his area, on the empty rectangle abyss where his coffin floated above with the aid of huge, sturdy burial equipment, and the discomfort only grows stronger -- almost too much to handle. But I did, in some way.

I breathed; one, two, and another time more, calming myself before I come face to face with something I didn't want to -- something I feared and would cower against. I looked back, guilt overflowing me as the faces of grieving people slowly wormed their way into my thinking, a horrifying indication of what I wasn't able to do: stop his death. I breathed again, fixing my stance in an attempt to block out any emotions from being known to any of the visitors, turning my head to his final destination as if salvation waiting.

The walk felt slow, almost too -- painfully -- slow I wanted for someone to pull me back and stop me from proceeding. It was unbearable -- the pressure tugging from a corner in my chest and the fast-brewing headache, swirling like a mad maelstrom. But I did get there anyway, and all of those other feelings I've had didn't compare to how it feels facing him. "I'm sorry." Everything swirled painfully -- excruciating -- guilt mixed with something incomprehensible scraping against my insides as if sharp claws of an unknown beast.

Albeit the apprehension, I drew my uneasy hand closer to the opened lid where his sleeping features peeked like yeoubi -- beautiful and warm although the sadness of what surrounded it. I'm sorry, I wanted to say but found no courage to voice out again, so I only whispered; deep in my mind where nobody could hear -- where the deepest of my sorrows lay unmoving. With a deep, rooted breath, I trailed my index along the golden accents of his confines, the protruding details a bumpy surface that jarred my feelings askew. But still, I tried to remain as brave as possible -- unfazed when I am nothing but so.

"Rest in peace, Donghyuck," I mutter under my breath, eyeing him who looked as if nothing was wrong, as if he was just sleeping peacefully in a slumber that would last forever -- something he chose for himself. I only trapped my lip between my teeth, clenching and unclenching my hand in uncertainty of what I needed to do next. However, a sensation of tugging made itself prevalent on my right elbow, a gentle pulling which seemed to do so much in my current state, jarring my thoughts like an unprecedented shock and snapping me back to reality.

And I look at who it was, my eyes traveling down until it landed on a little boy carrying the same flower I still had in my hand, clad in a small black suit. He had this glossy look on his eyes, an apparent sadness dancing in his orbs that told wordlessly how much he loved the perished. "Mark-hyung," Hanyuck called, his hold loosening until his hand eventually fell limp on his side. The young boy turned away, trained his attention to the towering casket, before saying, "Can you help me?" He gestures to the flower in his hand, a silent plea trailing in the air, and I look at where Donghyuck's family had been seated.

Donghyuck's mother's eyes met mine, the nod that followed an unverbal answer to my silent question, and although the discomfort of our shared connection. I pursed an unsure smile, nodding my head for a respectful gesture. "Okay," I mumbled, turning back to face Hanyuck who didn't say a thing. I quietly made my way further back, crouching then curling my hands on the younger's waist to raise him up as gently as I could on to my arms on a secure hold.

He fiddles with the flower in his hand, his soft breathing a gentle hum in the air, and he holds it near his chest, a determined expression on his tiny features. "I love you, hyung." It comes out almost a whisper, bordering a silent exhale, but I heard it -- recognized every bit of the feelings attached meaningfully with every word -- and my heart pulsated painfully against my ribcage, the sick, warm feeling in my stomach reeling my state of confusion to one of pure and utter turmoil. "I'm sorry," I say, not quite sure as to whom it was due; was it for the lost or for those who lost? Both, probably.

With a little breath, Hanyuck bends forward, gently laying the sunflower on Donghyuck's casket. He closes his eyes for a moment as he clasps his hands, I reckon a sincere prayer on the back of his eyes, said in the comforting darkness and silence of his personal thoughts. "Thank you, hyung." Hanyuck turns to me and taps on my shoulder, and I wordlessly let him down, mustering a tight-lipped stretch on my mouth when he bows and scurries off to his family.

I'm sorry.

I say it again, inside my head when I turned to look back at the inevitability that came sooner than wanted, and I grieve silently against the thin, cold air that nipped against my skin like little bites of sadness and hurt, emotions thumping a little harder upon thinking how much had been lost; how many people have to suffer years worth of pain and irretrievable memories and chances. The itch on my insides only intensifies along with a strong want to get out and disappear from view, to not see their suffering, and I lay the flower down near Donghyuck's face, once more peeking a long glance before leaving, walking away until I got far enough it didn't feel suffocating.

-

We weren't exactly what I would call as best friends (such idea I thought as years passed and our connection stayed); I considered our circumstance rather ill -- toxic -- and my negative connotations towards him and the lack of wanting to be in such friendship, not to mention associated memories with him, only served as strong grounds for me continue on hating him deeply and thus consider such arrangement a completely rotten fate. However, coming to think about it, we were friends, as much as I would have to begrudgingly admit from an olden point of view. I didn't always hate him.

I remember, then, the first time I'd met Donghyuck during elementary; first grade. My family had transferred back to our homeland, a greener pasture awaiting my dad and the family from the company he had been decided to head, and along with such change was the joys and sorrows of adjustment. I had been so shy, disgustingly timid as I struggled to speak fluently when asked to introduce myself, almost crying because the others had looked at me weirdly; eyes asking silent questions of insulting doubts. Donghyuck, then, in all his little self glory, displayed an attitude as robust as his skin, raising his hand and claiming me as his seatmate with his high-pitched, bordering airy, voice. Little did I know that such bold proclamation would instigate a whirlwind of events I would rather not have experienced.

Through Donghyuck, I had undergone many of my memorable firsts. In him, I had my first friend that I actually liked and genuinely enjoyed the company of, a stark contrast to my past ones that had all been from connections and made out of practical thinking. Because of him, I had the first disappointment that broke me to pieces, the first strong tinge of unwarranted treason to stain on my mind and stay. On him, I inflicted my first rage from frustrations and anger. To him, I harbored my first feelings of strong, vehement hatred and appreciation. And through him, I had experienced the most significant feeling of pain I had ever faced -- of loss.

I had actually liked Donghyuck; from the very first time I had laid my eyes on him, I've thought he would be someone great to have in my life. Bright and upbeat, he carried an air with him that spoke of happiness, warmth, and confidence that didn't require subjugating others just to rise above. It was natural, free-flowing in his persona and unquestionable by anyone that in my naive young eyes, he was someone who held the world in his hands. But some things, in such case our friendship, just don't pan out the way it's expected to.

-

"Hi," I say, awkwardly playing with the ends of my shirt, staring at the loud boy who called out from earlier saying he wanted me to be his seatmate. "I'm Minhyung, nice to meet you." I didn't think it was needed, because I've already introduced myself earlier, but I had nothing else to say. And that's been the only thing on my mind since morning; I've practiced it a zillion times so I could be perfect just like my daddy wants.

The other boy smiles, reaching out a hand, the sunlight from behind hitting his skin like a soft glow which I always see angels on drawings and pictures I have. "I know. You said it earlier." He smiles even more, eyes going small as he shook his hands which I took to shake after. "I'm Donghyuck."

"Let's be friends."

-

"Mark?" The sound of knocking makes its way to my ears, bordering loud, terrifying thumps that seemed to indicate an equally horrible foreboding. So I chose to ignore it, further pressing on against myself under the covers in a poor attempt to draw out the things I didn't want to face. But all my subpar efforts seem to go to waste, thrown out the window, when a warm touch lays dormant on the upper left of my back, and I feel my walls crumbling to fine pieces of self-loathing and pity.

"Leave me alone, mom," I tried to make my voice as cold-blooded as I can, nearing a severely hostile growl as I shook her off with a brisk movement. But she only breathes, her inhale and exhale a serene comfort from the coldness of my surroundings. "Leave me alone," I say again, however this time more enervated, less fight and more fright. However, she begins patting the area where her hand was, drawing the other to a loose half-embrace, draping it over my chest as she rests her face on my arms.

"It's going to be okay, sweetie." My eyes began to stung then, a warmth relatively unfamiliar building up with pressure on my lids, and I instinctively sniffed to suppress the tears welling on the rims. "I know you've had a rough patch with him, but it's going to be okay." She proceeds to rub soothing circles along my back, the touch seeming to be burning my skin with the patterned path it created, a sickly heat that only made me want to cry even more.

"I don't get it."

This is what I want; to be free from the annoyance that was Donghyuck, to break out of the shackles the bound me to the things I'd rather not feel, experience, and have. But why do I not feel happy? Why am I mourning as if I lost something important to me? He's not; he should've been just some passing buzz against my ear, easily drawn out by other significant noises. But, why?

-

"I'm sure you all know about Donghyuck's passing; his service had been held a couple of days ago," the teacher begins solemnly, a sense of finality in his voice that rang in my ear uncomfortably, and I couldn't help but look away from him, averting my eyes to anywhere but. It was uncomfortable, hearing things like so; as much as I disliked Donghyuck then, I've never imagined or thought about such scenario. "To show respect, the school will be putting his portrait on the center ground." It was indirect, unsaid and hidden from actual words, but I'd heard it properly, the thought streaming directly to my head it hurt.

Please pay your respects.

"Dude, you okay?" From my side, Jeno nudges me weakly, snapping me out of my trance with such a light but powerful movement. I look at him, my hand on my nape, rubbing softly to ease the discomfort growing uncontrollably in my chest, trying to shield myself from his calculating gaze. When I didn't answer, he stayed still, shooting me a look I couldn't catch the clear meaning of -- it was one crossed between cognizance of an impasse and determination -- before turning away to face front, a silent, "It's okay," from him cradling my ears like a soft promise of nothings.

I don't think, "I am."

-

The thing with Donghyuck is that he never knew when to stop; he always went forward, surged ahead even when the situation was the lowest it could get, in hopes fueled from optimism and perseverance. I guess I could say it was the same characteristics of him, among many others, that kept our friendship afloat after I decided to put up my walls; to keep distance because it was getting all too much.

He never shied away from showing himself in his barest, always not afraid to throw himself out in the open field when called for. He had stood for what he believed was right and fought for what was like so without deeming it a need to use non and verbal brutality to make a way for things. He was basically the epitome of goodness, pure kindness in the flesh it almost had been unbearable to digest the thought.

He was so, so good it made me bad.

-

"It was because of you! You made this happen!" It was all too fast, the hand approaching my face a blurry mess before a stinging pain registered in my mind, such strong force enough to avert my vision elsewhere. I wanted so badly to refute Yerim's claim, to shout at her and scream at the top of my lungs how unreasonable she had been with her words and actions, but I only found myself keeping silent as she draws another painful slap.

My jaw laxed, a tightening on my stomach making itself prevalent when I looked at her tear-stricken face as she pointed towards Donghyuck's portrait. "Don't you even know --," she cuts herself off, breathing sharply while furiously wiping her tears away, Umji holding her back. "That's enough eonnie," she said, rubbing a comforting palm against Yerim's back, glaring at me despite the mellowness in her tone. It was clear they hate my guts, very apparent with the way they are, and I cower against their gazes for reasons inexplicable even by me.

"You're being too much, Yerim." I almost felt like a spectator, watching out of my body as Jeno pushes me back behind him, a distant look on his face he rarely had on, save for situations that get him reasonably ballistic. My eyes flit to his hands, calmly clenching as it hovered in the space near his pants' pocket. "You can't go blaming anybody like that," he continues, a silent threat in his tone that obviously didn't inflict any negative emotions of worry on Yerim.

Instead, she crosses her arms and stares at us with a bewildered expression, exasperatedly sighing as she rolled her eyes heavenwards as if Jeno said the stupidest, irking sentence she's heard her entire life. "Can't go blaming what, Jeno?! Donghyuck loved him! But he only hurt our friend! Who's to say he didn't want Donghyuck to die, huh?! He could've saved him!" A few people had stopped on their tracks, clearly uncomfortable yet invested with the whole scenario unfolding right in front of the little shrine made in respect for Donghyuck. But I couldn't put any of my mind on them, not when his words ring relentlessly on my ear again.

I love you. That's all I wanted to say.

It repeats; again and again until it's the only thing in my head, Jeno's retort a tuned-down blur in the background. My head heats up, another headache mercilessly brewing, and I couldn't help but suck in a breath as the same sick heat makes itself prevalent in my eyes and stomach. "Stop." It's blurred but I hear myself say like how I would listening to a muffled speaker, the world somewhat closing in the same time my vision started to get hazy and darken.

The strong tinge of panic runs across the whole of my body, fast flowing in every vein I have, and I inhale only to feel my chest constrict severely. "Stop." I try again but miserably fail, and at such point, everything seemed to stop, haphazardly halting to serenity before it came crashing back down in full force, the airy beat in my ear a hard thrumming of unwanted phrases as it got unmanageably hard to breathe.

I pounded on my chest, hoping to the heavens it would help with the pain that had started to build up, the uncomfortable metaphorical stabbing on my heart a prevalent sensation. "Stop!" Donghyuck's serene voice only intensified, as if a surround audio system I couldn't escape the hold of, and I covered my ears, pushing down as hard as I can, praying he'd stop saying those words I last heard.

-

"Mark-hyung!" My eyes twitched, the familiar feeling of annoyance creeping to a close proximity in my chest as the airy, high-pitched voice entered my ear needlessly, tearing the bubble of peace I've built around myself to enjoy such a fine day. "Good morning! Walking to school?" His steps sounded, getting louder and louder before he caught up, jogging beside me.

"Obviously, Donghyuck." I didn't look and instead continue to walk on my own pace along the neighborhood, not minding his looming presence but instead the beauty of a bright day. I wouldn't want to ruin my morning by speaking to the likes of him; such annoying people who couldn't get the hint and just mind their own business. But, just as any other scenario, Donghyuck only chuckles, a little snort by the end as he waves a hand in my peripheral.

Not a second later, he jogs up ahead, stopping a few tracks away and stopping me with his hand held up, and I couldn't help but feel irritated by his childishness. Must he do such thing when there's school to attend? However, albeit the scratching in my head, I choose to purse my lips and silently wait for what he's came up with, raising my brow and frowning to get the point across.

Instead of feeling subordinated, put down by my display as I had wanted him to be, Donghyuck only smiles widely -- brightly, and I found it extremely irking how the sun's light hit him in all the right places; just enough for the peeking light to appear as if they were reaching out. "Why are you so moody, hyung? It's such a beautiful day today! You need to turn that frown upside down," he explains, gesturing with his hands a smile.

Classic Donghyuck. Classic annoying, goody-two-shoes Donghyuck.

"Shut up." I scoffed, mumbling silent profanities as I continued walking, evading him when I got near enough and continuing away as I so planned. "Go bother someone else," I said, void of emotions although the inexplicable tugging in my chest when I saw a tiny flickering of hurt passing his eyes.

It stayed silent for a while, only the sound of shoed feet hitting the cemented road going about as we walked, and I closed my eyes to enjoy the serenity that surrounded me -- tried imagining Donghyuck out of the picture. But just as I began to pick him out piece by piece, the fast and continuous shuffling of feet disrupted me from my thoughts, prompting me to open my eyes.

By then, Donghyuck had taken refuge before me on my left, steps relaxing as he tilted his head to look back, a small smile on his lips. "Maybe I will, Mark-hyung." It bordered a mumble, a silent muttering I almost didn't catch if I hadn't laid my eyes on his moving mouth. Nearing the end our eyes met, and my heart leapt at the contact I wanted so much to avoid. "Maybe I will." And he turns away, swiftly jogging away with an upbeat, "Race you to school, hyung," trailing in the air heavily.

-

"Mark!" I snapped my eyes open, strong hands shaking me back to reality, everything keeping still as I examined my surroundings. Finally my eyes land on Jeno who had a panicked expression on his face, still rocking me back and forth. "Are you okay?!" He stared at me as if looking for something, eyes searching unsaid words, pleading for any answer to be given.

I wanted to tell him I was okay, that nothing was bothering me, but I could only open my mouth and close it back, my mind not yet conditioned to form any words to speak. So I settled with shaking him off and nodding, my vision flitting to Yerim and Umji who looked at me weirdly, the tiniest bit of concern dancing in their eyes. "You better be okay, Lee," left Yerim's lips before she turned away, dragging Umji as she walked past Jeno and me after looking back at Donghyuck's portrait.

Along with their leaving were soft muffled conversations, silent gossiping as the actual spectators left to go on about what they were about to before the eventful occurence. And if I was in the right mind, I would've worried about the big possibility of sitting atop the gossip pyramid by tomorrow, but I wasn't; so I only let Jeno drag me away, far from all the confusion and hurt.

-

"Want to eat snacks with me?" The boy, Donghyuck, smiled, holding up the biscuits and drink he pulled out of his bag just a few seconds ago, shaking them a little bit before he slowly put them down on his table.

"Okay," I said in return, grabbing my chair and placing it near him. After sitting down, I opened my food box and said a little prayer, taking out my donut and box of juice after.

-

"You know, I don't get you." Jeno looks far away, distant as he spoke, his elbows leaning on to press against the wooden barrier of the small connecting bridge where Donghyuck had confessed his love for me days prior. He breathes, chest visibly rising as the air flowed freely inside to him, titling his head to gaze at me calculatingly.

I love you.

I shook the words from my head, turning away from the sun and resting my elbows in a comfortable angle and pressing the middle of my back on the blunt, rounded support wood. "Just when he was alive, you kept pushing him away, determined to keep distance and to get him out of your life. But now that he's gone." He trailed off, eyes darting to the ground, but my mind had already pieced the fragments together, seeming prepared for such a question but not knowing how to answer.

My breath hitched, my eyes closing and Donghyuck emerging from the dark confines of my mind. He has his classic smile, bright and cheery I wondered if his jaws hurt from stretching his lips so widely. Mark-hyung, I could almost hear him call out, his arms raising to the gentle waving of his hand, and I stifled a whimper from escaping me. "I don't know, Jeno." Donghyuck fades, slowly and gracefully shifting to black until there was nothing more, only the emptiness of my lonely thoughts.

"I'm confused." I don't know where I wanted to go with my statement but, even so, I continued, wanting so much to empty myself and get some sort of insight as to why I'm so affected by his worldly departure. "For the most part of all the years I've shared with him, all I've felt was vehement and unreasonable hatred. I didn't want him with me -- didn't want him near me because his perfection irked me so much. But he always stayed, gravitated towards me even when I was at my most hostile. I don't understand it, Jeno."

By the time I had uttered Jeno's name, my hand had already taken home above my chest area, gently massaging the part where my heart laid and ached silently with every word I spewed out with gentle care. It beat hard, furiously against my ribcage that if taken out of context, the situation could've easily been interpreted as that of extreme danger. "I hate him." I wasn't sure but that's how I've distinguished my feelings along the way he paved for our relationship.

I know you don't feel the same. But still, I wanted you to know.

"Do you actually?" Silence reigned upon us, the only sounds mingling lovingly with the air were the soft chirping of birds and the gentle flowing of water underneath us. And it calms me ableit the indescribable pressure building up in my chest, a stark contrast to the maelstrom inside my stomach; a turmoil I couldn't quite grasp despite experiencing -- chaotic, uncontrollable.

The wind blows past my face, and for a second I think I warped back to the moment when Donghyuck said his unrequited 'I love you', a feeling of deja vu strong and apparent on my mind, but Jeno's presence instead of Donghyuck's reminded me that I'm still here; in the present -- where Donghyuck exists no more. "I don't know."

-

Rummaging through my old properties, as I had thought, is a rotten idea. Such fact became apparent when I stumbled upon some old photographs I've hidden away, well enough they shouldn't have seen the light of day for another decade more, quality decaying quite a bit. I picked one, my heart beginning to stagger with every millisecond that passed. "First grade," I read the scribbly characters written in the back along the upper right of the picture, mind immediately darting to the person of Donghyuck; he used to write even the pointless of things on photographs, saying it's like him imparting something of himself to the object.

There was a weak tugging on the corners of my lips, made parevalent as I took in the happy look in our faces while we had our eyes at each other, wearing our uniforms. It was something I thought was great for us to do since we were best friends then. "Best friends, huh." My heart thumps, relentlessly beating about but rather feeling very shallow when it should've been full from looking at such happy memories, and I find myself frowning, a void in my chest I couldn't simply scratch off.

I inhale, putting it down and flipping through a couple more from the relatively thick stack of pictures. Most of them were when we were younglings, just smiling about without any care for the reality that tends to take away one's happiness. I look so happy with him in the pictures; with wide smile, a pleasant expression on my face. I liked so much being with him -- until I didn't.

"This is," I begin but trailed off, running a finger across the fading, matted surface, my eyes trained only at the two people serving as the center piece of the documented memory. "The summer of sixth grade," I supplied, needlessly finishing my previous statement.

In the picture, Donghyuck has an arm draped over my shoulder, his other one holding up a peace sign as he stuck his tongue out. He looks so happy; eyes crinkling by the sides and lips stretched wide. Meanwhile, I only stand motionless, empty eyes as I smiled just for the camera -- just for my parents who wanted me to. Not for Donghyuck -- never for him because I despised him.

-

"Mark Lee." I stopped walking, immediately halting my steps and stilling, Yerim's voice a terrifying remembrance of the events that had transcended a couple of days ago. I debated whether or not to turn around, my heart hammerimg at the possibility of another overblown confrontation, but choosing to brave the unclear future, I ultimately turned about, facing her and my fear.

"Yes." I breathed once, again, and another time more, taking the opportunity to bring myself down from the pedestal made of worry and confusion, not daring to look at her eyes for the fear I might be hoisted up again in a much higher platform. So I only stared at the white walls of the hallway, keeping my distance. "Can I do something for you," I asked when she didn't utter another word, albeit fiddling with an envelope in her hands.

She sighs then, a contemplative one when her eyes turned down along with the slight bowing of her head. "I don't like you. I hope you know that," she begins but pauses mid-way, an uncertainty with a tinge of sadness in her tone that reminded me of that morning, the day before Donghyuck passed on -- when he agreed with me.

"This is for you. From Donghyuck." She hands out the folded white letter-container, and my stomach plummets at the sensation that traversed through my body: warm and fuzzy as if the most comfortable days of summer. I find myself reeling, carefully taking the letter away from her despite the utter whirlwind of feelings swivelling in the pit of my stomach.

"What?" I couldn't find it in me to formulate coherent and comprehensible phrases so I settled on just that, a vague 'what' to contain all of my unsaid questions even I don't fully grasp the variety of. However Yerim seemed to get them, the message clear in her face that didn't give anything away.

"We found it yesterday at Donghyuck's room when we came in to check on auntie. I guess he wrote it for you before -- before the event happened. I didn't read it, don't worry," she states giving me no time to reply before turning away. "Please read it thoroughly Mark. I may not like you, and wouldn't want to give you something Donghyuck put his heart into making, but he did. And I'm sure he'd want for you to know its contents." She pauses. "We didn't pry on it, don't worry." Then she leaves, heels softly clacking against the floor.

My hand trembled as if touching the paper material hurt and burned my skin severely, but I held it securely in my hands, a foreign feeling tugging along my chest while I observed my nicely written name along the center.

From: Donghyuck  
To: My Dear Mark-hyung  
“ For the one I hold dear. ”

-

"Do you not like me anymore, hyung?" Donghyuck is silent and, if I didn't catch the buzzing words, I wouldn't have heard what he had said. But I did, and it irked me how he batted his lashes shyly while pretending to be the perfect, untouchable person everybody thinks he is. "Why do you not hang out with my anymore," he asks again, his voice a remarkable similarity to the soft shadows cast by the setting sun.

But I couldn't be bothered to care about his feelings; not when he's done so much damage to me. So I said, "Yes. I don't." And for a moment I feel guilty, the darkness in my heart a significant choking sensation along my throat when glassy eyes stare back at mine, glistening like jewelry put under the sun but a quality of sadness and despair with every ray of light that reached out. "I don't like you anymore," I repeat, avoiding his burning gaze as if it were the plague, setting my eyes on the sight of my home a couple houses away.

I expected to hear him cry, to see a display of exaggerated tears and whines, but none came. Instead, Donghyuck hangs his head low, his breathing awful as the build up of mucus in his nose blocking the airways, bringing up a hand to his face. "I don't like you." I know I didn't have to say it again, but the desparation to erase the guilt rubbing off on my chest has gone stronger, and we stay still, only the breeze cradling our ears.

A moment later Donghyuck looks back up, a smile on his face that rivaled the brightness of his past ones. "Okay, Mark-hyung."

-

That was fourth grade, the first time I'd told Donghyuck I didn't like him -- the catalyst for more hostile occurences to follow. That was the first among the other hundred times I have been guilty of making Donghyuck feel extreme negativity; too blinded by my unjustifiable reasons that I chose to destroy him to feel better about my own incompetencies, too self-absorbed to see how I've hurt him so deeply.

Whenever I think back at the memory of his glistening eyes, I feel the worm of guilt wiggling its way inside me, the ghosting of its touch along my darkness-filled heavy heart. I feel it so strongly -- identify it so accurately -- especially now he's gone. But I can't do anything; I can't warp back through time and make it up to him, nor bring him back from the dead. I'm only a measly douchebag -- an asshole to the people who hold me dearly.

I could only do so much as grip the letter's pages tighly in my hands, afraid that if I let go, the enlightenment I've had would slip away along with Donghyuck's essence as a person that I've rebuilt as I read the contents. I could only do so much as mutter soft 'sorry's under my breath, hoping he could hear it from the afterlife.

I know it now; I was wrong. "Sorry, Donghyuck," I sobbed, his features morphing from the pitch black of my closed lids, his face a relaxed smile that had my breath caught -- captured by such display. And I so badly wanted to reach out, hold him, but he seemed so far away -- so unreachable even when I held my arms out the farthest they could go.

When I realized it was of no use, I retreated, hand falling limply by my side as I watched him disappear to sheer nothingness, fading away akin to how my unsubstantiated anger and hatred for him has gone when I'd read his last message. "I'm so sorry." I kept to myself, pressing onto my knees for warmth, seeking traquility amidst the wild waves of shame and new-found feelings.

That night, I cried, and for the first time, I felt myself sinking.

-

From: Donghyuck  
To: My Dear Mark-hyung  
“ For the one I hold dear. ”

Dear Hyung,

I love you.

I don't think you're ever going to bat a lash to read this -- it would actually be embarrassing -- but if you do, I want you to know that this is what my heart speaks of. I want to be brave, hyung. And if you're not going to talk to me, then this letter will have to do. I don't know how long this piece would turn out to be, but I guess it's going to be just enough to vent it all out. You know? And, if it gets a little scatterbrained, I'm sorry, I'm not really in the right mindset to write something great. I just want to get it all out.

First and foremost: you're very special to me, hyung. You're a person I hold very dear and close to my heart. I don't know when it started; when this feeling inside my chest began to blossom until it grew so huge, but what I do know is you're someone I cherish with all my heart that it's almost unbearable.

I think you've forgotten about it already but I remember the first time we've met. You were so cute hyung, was what I thought when you introduced yourself in-front of the class, fumbling with your words and getting all shy. "I'm going to make him my friend," was what I told myself then. I didn't know why, or how, but you had this inexplicable pull on me that just drew me in until I was fully lost in you. It had always been a moment I considered as magical, especially the one of when you first spoke to me. I was so happy.

Even more so when we started hanging out; you don't know how ecstatic I had been being with you. It was like my tiny heart longed only for you, you know? Every time you'd favor me over others, I felt proud -- almost high up because the Minhyung Lee sought for me first. You just don't know how happy you've made me.

I also remember the first time you called me your 'best friend'; during second grade. Do you remember as well? I guess not. But I'm letting you in on a secret, I think it was the first time my heart thumped so wildly in my chest due to excitement. I was overjoyed hearing those words from you -- from you who I look into. I even thought so much as to want the time to keep cycling back to that moment. It was blissful, honestly. Come to think of it, I guess that was the moment it started -- the feelings, I mean.

And as the days passed, I found myself falling for you, hyung. I know you're probably thinking how stupid and utterly idiotic it is for a kid to feel to dare say 'I was falling', much less claim to have such strong emotions of affection, but I did. I began to love you at such an early age -- too early now that I think about it. But I think I could credit it to the way you used to treat me hyung. I miss it. I miss you. You were so good to me; taking care of me, protecting me, treating me like how you'd treat someone you truly care for. I think that's also one of the reasons why I fell for you. You're kind, funny, and not to mention -- handsome. Sometimes I find myself wondering how it would feel if you loved me back. Stupid. I know.

We were so great together, I keep thinking to myself, hyung. You were so great to me. But somewhere along the way, it stopped, and I was so confused as to why you started acting the way you did. I was hurt -- I still am, but I wanted to keep strong for you. For us, if our friendship still exists even. You were never the same.

It was during the break fourth grade, as I recall clearly. We were just playing in the park, and I really missed you. You stopped hanging out with me for the other friends you've made, and I really felt hurt getting left alone. I don't know what happened, hyung -- until now you haven't told me -- but the pain still remains. Every time I think about your words that day, it always aches right at my heart.

I must've done something wrong, was what I thought. So I tried asking you, but you went wild all of a sudden. You really hurt me that time, hyung. And as embarrassing it is to admit, I cried myself to sleep that night, afraid you're never going to want to be with me again. "Mark-hyung hates me," I remember chanting like a mantra until darkness swallowed me.

But I'd like to think the old Mark-hyung was still there, you know. That you never changed, and that you just toughened up your exterior. So even after all these years of you pushing me far from you, I never let myself lose hope and drift away. I always gravitated to you because I knew it in me you didn't forget about us. I'm delusional, you're probably thinking.

You're probably right. I don't know why I keep trying even when it's become too painful. I don't understand how I keep praying for the strength to hold us from falling apart when you don't even try the slightest. I can't fathom my sheer will to keep you near me when you don't even want me to be. But I do anyway -- I endured everything simply because I love you.

I love you, Mark-hyung.

I love and miss you, hyung. Everyday I long for what we had, and it gets so sad to watch you grow from afar, however happy I feel for your progress. I want you back. I want Mark-hyung who made me feel special and wanted, and loved, and everything in between. I know, hyung, it's stupid. I'm selfish to want you to stay when you don't. It's so, so stupid of me to pray every night you'd return. It's so stupid of me. So I'm sorry, hyung; if I've done something wrong. I promise I didn't want for it to happen. But I miss you. I miss you so much, hyung.

Moreso, I'm tired hyung. Even though I love you greatly, it feels like my heart's exhausted from chasing you, from always trying to be near when you push me away. But I'll never not love you -- I always will. I think I'm just tired of exerting effort to where it's not due, tired of the rejection I've been facing for years. It's all too familiar, and my heart is worn-out from all of it. And I guess the true reason I'm writing this letter to you is because I want to let go -- not of my love, but of us. I want to brave the possibility of a world without you, hyung, because everyday I hurt without knowing why. Everyday I hope, and get disappointment. You said it yourself: "Go bother someone else," right?

Maybe I will, hyung. Maybe then I can finally make you happy.

So, hyung, this is my goodbye.

With love,  
Donghyuck

-

"Honey, this is not a passing matter. This is serious," I hear my dad say from across the hall, along the side where his and mom's room is. I stopped walking, my plan to take a midnight snack put on hold as I tuned in to their conversation, slowly tiptoeing to a closer distance.

"He's just a kid, honey. Let him enjoy his childhood," mom replies, her voice defending, and my brows automatically shoot up at the words she had said. "Are they talking about me?" I went in closer, pressing my hand against the wodden door for support as I titled my head to the side.

A rough exhale sounds off, the noise closer to a grumbling from my side of the door, and the image of my frustrated dad immediately appears in my mind. I bring my empty hand to cup on my mouth, forcing a laugh to die down into quiet snickering. "Why is he so frustrated?" I snickered again, waiting for dad's response.

"I'm afraid he's going to turn out a disappointment if he continues this behavior. What would become of him when he grows up?!" My heart jumps at the way dad's voice rose, something with it vaguely familiar with a roaring thunder. "We can't let him enjoy childhood, honey! Soon, if he doesn't change his ways, he's going to be a good for nothing. I just know it."

The amount of conviction in dad's words sets something heavy in my heart, an emotion si powerfully destructive I found myself massaging a hand across my chest, my eyes a mix of warmth and stinging lightness. "Honey, keep quiet. He might hear you," mom says, her voice small, a silent threat to her plead, and I suck in a breath, ready to leave when dad quickly replied.

"Why can't he be like that friend of his -- you know, Donghyuck? He's nice, polite, and smart. Why can't he be just as perfect?" His words stay on my mind, and for a while I think it would all be what I'd think about for the night -- for a little bit I thought those were the most heartbreaking words I had heard -- but I was wrong. Because dad's next words broke me.

"It would've been nice if he was our child instead." And even if he did say sorry after, that he hadn't mean it, it didn't change the fact that he did.

-

"Is there anything wrong, Mark-hyung?" I feel my head go light as I watched Donghyuck annoyingly fiddle with his fingers, his tanned skin rich against the even light spread across the field he dragged me at to talk. He looks at me, his eyes staring straight back at mine, before he whispers, "Did I do anything wrong?"

How dare he ask that question when he should know well what he's done? How could he pretend to not know? How could he act this way when he's made me suffer?

Donghyuck touches my shoulder, rubbing on a spot; something he usually does to let me know everything's alright. "Are we still okay, Mark-hyung?" His thin voice annoyed me, my head hurting from hearing it and my heart painful as dad's words ring again. And anger swallows me whole.

"I hate you, Donghyuck! I hate you!" I push him, with all my might he toppled back and onto his behind. He looks up at me, terror flashing in his eyes before he pursed his lips, eyes asking a silent question before he moved his mouth to speak. "I don't get it, Mark-hyung." He holds out his hand, shaking just like the bottom of his lips, appearing innocent -- meek, perfect -- and I hate every bit of what he's showing.

"Why are you doing this, hyung?" He presses on to himself.

I clench my fists, my chest overflowing with anger and deep rooted hatred, heart beating hard and fast. "I hate you," I said, eyeing Donghyuck straight in the eyes so he knows how much I do. And when he only bites his lip in reply, I kicked him hard on his thigh, saying insults under my breath as I repeated it another time more.

How could he be so perfect? He could he pretend to be perfect? So he'd steal all of the people around me for himself? So he could take everything I have when he already has everything I could possibly want? Is that why he's so annoyingly perfect?

I stopped when he looks up again, mouth open as tears fell down his face; as if a stream, constant and heavy. And for a moment, I almost feel guilty -- almost said sorry if not for the words of my dad that played again in my ear. So I backed away, leaving him to himself. "Stay away from me. I don't want you near me."

"Mark-hyung, I'm sorry."

-

"I'm going to the park, mom." I didn't wait for a reply, instead immediately going out the front door to greet the cold morning air. I inhale deeply, the coldness entering my body as if a feverish conversion of bodily states, and I close my eyes, appreciating the quiet of such an early hour.

I have not planned anything, just going about with the uncontrollable, ceaseless wanting to go. It's like there's somewhere I need to be, but I don't know where -- just a blurry, familiar mess of a scene in my head that kept on appearing almost like little tidbits of visions as the night progressed. It feels as if a place is calling me, it's name at the tip of my tongue -- at my grasp but never really close that I could grab a hold.

So, without thinking, I ran and ran, and ran until my feet hurt. I let them take me to where I should be, lead me to the place calling me. And as I paced through the neighborhood -- for the first time in years -- I longed for Donghyuck to be beside me to chase me still.

But I know he can't.

-

"But still, I wanted you to know." He sighs, a deep exhale that blew out of his lips gracefully like how flowers would dance during the days of wind, and he smiles weakly again, the same one he had the moments prior. I had expected for him to cry then, for the tears that brimmed his eyes to spill in an unrelenting flow of unfiltered pain and sorrow, but he doesn't, instead, he looks away to the setting sun and rocks back and forth on the balls of his shoes.

"Thank you for making time for me today. I know how hard it is for you to see me, hyung. And I'm sorry if I did anything wrong towards you." A small smile tears through his lips, genuine albeit the glistening of his eyes and the redness that his ears had taken on moments ago, and I find myself staring, a weird sort of tingling in my chest with his words. It resembled guilt crossed with a different something I couldn't decipher -- something akin to want, but not quite.

I wanted to say something, retort with a witty remark of how dramatic he had been acting and that it was a pretty stupid show he had put on, but just as I open my mouth to speak, no words come out -- only silent could've-been-sentences on the back of my mind, never mingling with the thick air between us. So I chose to stay silent, watching as he rummage through his bag, pulling an object very similar looking to paper out before pushing it back in gently, a light shaking motion on his head as if some indication of sorts.

He puts his bag back on, subsequently bowing to me. "Thank you, Mark-hyung," he says, gazing at me for a second before walking ahead, a gentle, "I'll be sure to bother someone else," said with finality. By the end of it he carelessly waves a hand, movement delicate in the air as if how a fairy would reach out to beautify the lands.

"Donghyuck." I didn't know why, but my lips moved on their own, his name repeated like a mantra in my head for no particular reason -- such an unexpected response for a person I've harbored negative feelings for for years; who's now finally letting me free from his persistence. "Donghyuck." I should've been overjoyed the moment he said his last words, should've felt a tingling fluttering of happiness my chest -- but no. For some inexplicable reason, I didn't -- and the crossed feelings of affliction and confusion took root in my chest, growing bigger and stronger with every moment that passed.

But I didn't make a move, not even when he stopped and looked back, his shining eyes searching for something as his face slowly contorted to pain, then surrender, before he continued. I only watch his retreating back, my heart pounding avidly in my chest like a sick thrumming I wanted not any of, blurry images of sorts at the back of my head, flashing in rapid-fire.

-

The wind blows past my face, the memory a melancholic nightmare whirling in my head unrelentingly, tormenting my heart with awful whips that marked every side it hit. And I muse about Donghyuck -- ponder what there is -- giving thought to what I've done so desperately to continue hating and neglecting after all these years, the past dislike now a blurry tinge of inexplicable fondness as I Iook at his name elegantly engraved in his area indicator.

I bend down, my hand reaching to touch the golden curves that adorned his placement -- itching to graze my fingertips along the vivid, robust shiny mustard-gold that seems so warm and welcoming -- but I stop nonetheless, a little too short of an inch before retreating and staying still. "I don't know what to say." I've done him so many wrongs -- promoted hate and exacted spiteful things to him who did not; to him who stayed true and wanted me when I always kept opposing.

Sorry isn't enough.

"It isn't." His picture sits comfortably along the left side of his area, a so-so-sized portait where he smiles just as brightly and widely as he did, his head ever-so-slightly a tilt giving a more refreshing feeling. "But I really am." I couldn't stop tears from flowing out of my eyes, sadness surging and rapidly flowing in my chest it got so hard to breathe, and I coil into my self as an act of preservation -- as a reflex to the cold metaphorical water of regret clashing on me as if how a tsunami would.

He had been so good -- so resilient; no matter how hard I attempted to drive him away, he always cane through and countered every negativity I threw out. He had been so preservering, steadfast in keeping to be by my side however things got. And I know it now -- know it in my heart how awful I had been to him; how unfair and ruthless my constant oppositions were.

My hand shook, trembled, as I reached over his toothy smile printed on glossy paper, and I trace his features, my stomach dropping to levels uncharted as the rumbling in my chest ceased not. "If I could change the past, I would," I mutter under my breath, picking up his portait in a quivery hold, while remaining crouched in my place. Had it not for the cold patches that scattered over the side of my hand, I wouldn't have noticed the tears that flowed out of my eyes relentlessly.

I don't understand my feelings; it's rather a quick change in perspective considering all of the time I spent disliking Donghyuck. Hundreds of moments did I spend hating him for something so juvenile as I had realized gone to waste -- withered to dust with his loss that continues to sizzle in my core. I am devastated. But why should I be when I had considered him a foe not worthy of anything else but hostility?

"I would change Donghyuck." He couldn't hear me, couldn't see the mess I've become now, and the feeling of remorse gnaws on my skin painfully. I could only cower onto myself even more at the harsh reality, like a hedgehog coiling into himself for protection. I am that -- I want to preserve myself from going insane.

"How could you have liked someone like me?" I ask to no one in particular, the little fact that Donghyuck used to harbor feelings for me igniting a burning curiosity inside my chest that swept over to my mind.

How could he have when I've been nothing but a loser who took out his frustrations on him when I could've improved and done well? How could have have looked at me with rose colored eyes when I had been grim and atrocious to him? I do not know.

I couldn't help the small rueful laugh that bubbled from the deepest of my chest from sounding off of my lips. "I'd been so cruel," I said, averting my eyes away from his portait, my chest clenching at the things that were dawning on me, "and pushed you too hard away when you only wanted to fix my brokenness."

The breath that comes out of my mouth is shaky, a little too uncontrolled like the emotions that settled menacingly in the pit of my stomach where it burned ike acid, and I try to breathe once more to gain the feeling of dominance over my body. But I fail -- again, and again, and again until my knees go weak and ultimately plop down the green land.

"I'm sorry."

How many times have I circled back to that? To such a pitiful and pointless word that does little to nothing at this point in time? Have I done it enough to stop? I don't think I'll ever -- I don't think my words would ever be enough reason to stop feeling miserable at the loss of Donghyuck.

My 'sorry's could not bring him back. They couldn't heal the pained. They couldn't do anything to remotely move the heavens. All there is to them are my feelings of pain and sorrow -- of regrets that I should've not felt belatedly.

-

The setting sun casts a warm orange glow on the ground, the ever-so-soft rustling of leaves adding to the perfect mix of natural tranquility that the place presents. And I find myself basking at the warmth that continually brush against my skin like soft touches from someone ai love -- I feel at ease, a little shy of being happy, as though my insides didn't twist at the image of a smiling Donghyuck in my mind.

I'd been here before, at the place where Donghyuck bared himself to me -- when I last saw him -- but somehow it feels different to stay here. It's familiar, but not quite the thing I had been accustomed to.

Is it because I know for sure now that don't hate him? That I hold a different set of complex feelings of the entity that was Lee Donghyuck? Maybe. Or maybe it's because it's the first time I'd come here alone ever since he left.

I hadn't intended to go here, not when my emotions were all over the place I couldn't formulate a coherent thought that supports them. But it was as if I was programmed to find and arrive at this place amidst the haze in my mind as I walked through sceneries. I had only realized it when his voice rang in my ear again; in that high, pitchy tone he used when greeting me every morning.

I closed my eyes, painting an image of that fated day, letting out a sigh when the first that appears is Donghyuck's serene face, eyes slightly downturned to a look I could never forget. "Hyuck," I call out, snapping my eyes open and looking to where he stood that day. As expected, it was empty, save for the vague imprint that my mind had created, and I try not to be affected by my heart plummeting down my stomach.

"Please don't go bothering someone else." I don't know if I'm going crazy nor do I know if I'm completely sane, but right now I feel like it's something that I should be doing.

My eyes warm sickeningly at the idea of reliving one of the most painful moments of my short life. "Just me. Just bother me. Please." I knew the tears had started to fall but I didn't care. The thin air that I made out to be my imaginary Donghyuck is a good companion.

"I didn't mean anything by what I said." My hand started reaching out, Donghyuck's form slowly starting to seem opaque in my eyes, but I caught myself and stopped. And I sobbed a little at how pathetic I am being -- at how crazy I am for thinking such thing. "I'd change everything if I could, Donghyuck."

Then he turns his head to look at me, a small smile on his lips. "I'd like that, hyung."

And just like that, everything turned black.


End file.
